


Only this, only now

by Master_Of_Ceremonies



Category: Cabaret - Kander/Ebb
Genre: Angst, Everyone Is Gay, Gen, Period-Typical Homophobia, So much angst, an exploration of the emcee, bobby is gay, genderqueer emcee, i love the emcee more than i love myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:06:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Master_Of_Ceremonies/pseuds/Master_Of_Ceremonies
Summary: Of all the slurs or insults thrown in the faces of the Kit Kat Klub boys and girls, the fact that they were human  never seemed to be in question. After all, the very shamelessness they were looked down upon for was all the more proof of their humanity. What is more human than meaningless songs and bodies dancing joyously in the face of poverty and death? So though the boys and girls were generally thought to be the scum of the earth by those with sticks too far up their asses, at least they were human scum.(The Emcee is a mystery, Bobby is curious, and the world just might be ending)





	Only this, only now

Of all the slurs or insults thrown in the faces of the Kit Kat Klub boys and girls, the fact that they were human never seemed to be in question. After all, the very shamelessness they were looked down upon for was all the more proof of their humanity. What is more human than meaningless songs and bodies dancing joyously in the face of poverty and death? So though the boys and girls were generally thought to be the scum of the earth by those with sticks too far up their asses, at least they were human scum.

And, like all humans, they were woefully curious.

'Only this, only now' seemed to be the unspoken rule of the Klub. Whoever, whatever you were before the Klub was figuratively wiped clean. It was not to be asked about, though it could be shared if one wished to. Still, the boys and girls of the Kit Kat Klub were creatures of curiosity, born to wonder. They all knew bits and pieces of each others pasts. Some, like Bobby, would willingly talk for hours about his childhood. Others, like Helga, seemed determined to forget that any past of hers had ever existed. But of all the performers at the Kit Kat Klub, none were more of an enigma than the Master of Ceremonies. For gods sake, they didn't even know his real name, much less how he spent his earlier years.

It is onstage when Viktor wonders. of course it is, the Emcee always seemed the alive when his face was awash in spotlight. They stand in the final pose of Two Ladies, limbs intertwined and chests heaving. The Emcee's face is alight, grinning wider than the cheshire cat. His cheeks are flush with makeup and the slightest hint of perspiration, his eyes glow with the audience's applause . His lipstick is smudged and his hair is messy, but he is beautiful.

He is not handsome by current conventions. His hair is darker than the inky sky above the club, and much longer than is in fashion. He lacks the chiseled, muscular frame coveted by most, and something about him subtly suggests femininity. Yet, somehow, he manages to be more alluring and likable than any movie star Viktor had ever seen. Almost anyone who met him fell in love a little with his sly grin and playful humor.

Viktor is sure of his humanity, and of the humanity of his fellow cabaret members. But in that moment, the Emcee seems a spirit; far more otherworldly and strange to be merely a human. Next to Viktor, the Emcee's already pale skin seems ghostly. Their eyes meet, and Viktor can't hold his tongue. In that moment, Viktor wonders.  
"What are you?" It's barely more than a whisper, breathy and awe-filled. The Emcee's dark eyes widen slightly, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. Viktor catches some emotion cloud his eyes (Hurt? Surprise? Laughter?), but it's gone before he can decipher it.

 

When the Emcee leaves that night, Viktor is waiting. He leans against the wall, makeup long washed from his face. The night is crisp and cool, and his breath freezes in the night's wind. The Emcee's fingers, clumsy in the night air, fumble as he adjusts his coat, heels clicking on the pavement. He has reapplied his makeup meticulously, and his fingernails are now green instead of black.

"How do you do it?" The question escapes Viktor in the same manner as his earlier one, thoughtless. "I mean," he corrects. "Aren't you afraid?" The Emcee's cigarette casts deep shadows on his face, accentuating the dark circles under his eyes, and his mouth just laughs.


End file.
